


The Party

by cinomarsh



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 23:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17151377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinomarsh/pseuds/cinomarsh
Summary: Aperture has its very first christmas gala.





	The Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silverstreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverstreams/gifts).



All in all, Caroline thought, the decoration crew had done a fabulous job.

What was a cavernous storage area by day had been transformed into a glittering ballroom for the occasion. The walls were lined with strings of white lights in the shape of Aperture Science's logo (rejected merchandise relegated to storage after last Christmas) and garlands of convincing artificial greenery livened up the room. A buffet table had been laid out for the occasion, with fizzing punch from which tendrils of mist rose and curled and salads prepared with red and green croutons (which Caroline had advised against before she saw how they made Cave bellow with laughter), among scores of other strange but festive dishes. Caroline had hand-picked her decorating squad for their efficiency under pressure and their creative minds. After all, Mr. Johnson had insisted on the best.

This Christmas gala was all Mr. Johnson’s idea, of course. In the few years since Caroline had become his assistant she had never seen him throw a Christmas party for the employees, let alone an event impressive enough to invite investors and board members to. This year was different though, he'd said with a gleam in his eye. He'd told her everyone would have to wear their absolute finest or get thrown out on their asses. This year we gotta blow ‘em away, we gotta show ‘em we've got the best team money can buy. You and me and Aperture, Caroline, we're going places.

So now here she was, at a black-tie Christmas gala dressed in a tight red dress she hadn't worn since a cousin's wedding a few years prior. She had taken extra time to fix her long hair into an elegant updo. She knew she looked good- the researchers who had the sense not to oggle her at work now assumed they had all due permission to act as brazenly as her other colleagues. At least none of them had the nerve to ask her to dance or offer her a drink. Mr. Johnson wouldn't have anyone flirting with his assistant, especially not at a company function. She was his right hand and whether they knew it or not, she considered herself taken.

A small stage and podium had been assembled at the far end of the room. On it stood Cave Johnson in his very best suit, a wide grin on his face. A photographer was perched in front of the stage as Cave posed with every remotely important person he could find.

Publicity was key to the company's future, and Cave Johnson was the crown jewel of Aperture Science.  
She observed him from her place against the wall as she escorted people off the stage, a faint smile on her face. He was entirely in his element up there, she thought. It suited him.

At that moment, Cave glanced from the lineup in front of him to where Caroline stood. His grin only deepened when their gazes met and Caroline gave him an encouraging nod. Instead of turning to the next big spender, however, Cave strolled towards the edge of the stage, motioning for Caroline to come meet him. Worried something must have gone wrong and already running through her prepared list of emergency plans in her mind, she walked briskly to meet him. She could smell his cologne from this distance, but she pushed the thought from her mind.

“What is it, sir?” She asked, and before she knew it he had her hand in his and was helping her onto the stage.

“Mr. Johnson, what-"

“If I need a picture with every damn big wig in the state then I should at least have one with my assistant, shouldn't I?” he asked, winking at her. 

Caroline nervously eyed the waiting lineup but none of them seemed perturbed by the delay. On the contrary, her dress seemed like it was a big hit with them as well. Not that Mr. Johnson was looking at them; his arm was around her shoulders, leading her to centre-stage in front of the photographer. She cleared her throat.

“Are you sure we should be using the photographer's billable hours for this?” she asked, not harshly.

“Nonsense!” Cave replied, his booming voice jovial and bright, “you're the backbone of this facility! We wouldn’t get anything done around here if I didn't have you; I’d be crazy not to get you up here!”

Caroline opened her mouth to protest again, but she looked Cave in the eyes and saw he really meant it. He was proud to have her with him. The thought sent warmth into her chest as she allowed herself to be positioned in front of the camera. She tried not to focus on the watching crowd, instead focusing on the strong arm encircling her. She smiled.

“Say cheese!”

Parties were not Caroline's typical domain, and after the photograph and a few pointless conversations with drunk coworkers she decided she would be of more use getting some extra work done. As she left, she cast a fleeting glance to the stage to catch one more glimpse of Mr. Johnson flashing his million-dollar grin.

Aperture's familiar winding hallways were empty and quiet. Caroline reveled in the emptiness, relishing each click her shoes made on the tile. She felt welcome here, like this was where she was always meant to end up. Every day she got to work in America's most promising scientific research centre, working with Mr. Johnson to make it bigger and better than before, and she had every faith they would continue to grow and innovate into the future. She was proud to be a part of it. More than a part, apparently. A vital part. What had Cave called her? The backbone of this facility.

After a few more turns Caroline reached her desk, sitting in the antechamber preceding Mr. Johnson’s office. She sat down in her chair and pulled some paperwork out of her desk, comfortably settling back into her working rhythm. Nearly an hour passed without Caroline's notice, and when firm footsteps approached from the hall she barely heard them. It was a voice that finally stirred her from her trance.

“I didn’t scare you off, did I?”

Caroline spun to see Cave leaning against the doorframe, smirking. Somehow in the course of the evening he had attained a santa hat which now sat jauntily on top of his head. In one hand he held a scotch, in the other a glass of wine. Caroline smiled.

“Not at all, sir.”

“Lonely? I was a bit too busy shaking hands with every man over forty in the goddamn state to ask you to dance, but don't think I didn't want to.”

“No, not that either. Just finishing up some paperwork.”  
Cave, still smiling, walked over to place the two glasses on her desk.

“That's my girl; the Christmas gala of the damn century is going on down the hall and you've still got work on the brain.”

“It's my job, sir.” She told him, and she meant it. Aperture was their future and she knew it was her responsibility to keep it afloat however she could, and as long as he was still by her side she was confident they would.

“It’s more than that, kid, and you know it. Don’t go around bragging about it or anything but you and I both know you're the brains of this operation. I really don’t know what I'd do without you.”

A sly smirk crawled across Caroline's face.

“Well, probably a lot less of this.” She said and, rising from her chair to reach him, her mouth met his. His kiss tasted faintly of scotch and peppermint, and he returned it with his trademarked enthusiasm. They stood for a moment, engrossed in each other until Caroline pulled away. She glanced quickly at the doorway to make sure no one was gawking and took a sip of the wine he had brought her. Cave looked at her as though he couldn't believe his luck.

“You're one of a kind, Caroline.”

“Thank you sir. You're not so bad yourself.”

“Merry Christmas, kid.”

“Merry Christmas, sir.”


End file.
